Madame Mother is a benchmark, a benchmark that no one can leap over, full of vitality, perseverance, and wisdom.
It has to be said, being the son of Madame Mother is really very hard.
Even for him, Norton Jarvis, what he does and has does not compare to a ten-thousandth of Madame Mother's.
"Mom," Norton Jarvis looked at his mother ingratiatingly, his lips curved with the standard dutiful son's smile.
They had the same eyes, beautiful, enchanting, brimming with vibrancy. When the two pair of similar eyes met, the beautiful woman in the screen smiled. She cast aside the pen in her hand, leaned back gently, settling into her executive chair, saying, "Little Nan, two years absent, you've grown even more handsome."
"Mom, two years not seen, you've grown even younger. How do you manage to age in reverse, now you look less like my mother and more like my kid sister," Norton spilled compliments unrestrainedly to his mother, earnestly seeking her joy.
